In this moment though, she wasn’t sure what to do. She was shaking like a leaf. Her heels felt wobbly against the asphalt. What the hell was she going to do? How was she going to get out of this? She was fooling herself by thinking that Ellis would ever let her go.

When she didn’t say anything, her asshole boss obviously took it as consent because he smiled and cupped her cheek. It took everything in her to keep from pulling away. That hard look was still there. His shoulders were tense. Self preservation kicked in and she didn’t move a muscle. “That’s my girl.” He narrowed his eyes, looking at her lips. He’d never looked at her sexually before. His rules were not to sample the merchandise. He had a lot of such sayings. She should have known that he was a ginormous douchebag by the way he insisted on talking about women like they were retail stock.

He pulled away from her, staying within her personal space. “His identification must remain strictly confidential. It’s important that you know that he’s insisted on an exclusive fuck. He insisted on you, Candy.”

Candy felt herself flinch at his crass words. She had to be just about the most timid call girl in the business.

“As far as the senator is concerned, you are going to be servicing him and him alone. He knows you date those two old farts, but he must never know that Charles actually gets it up on the odd occasion.”

“The senator as in, William Lawson?” Her voice was a little high pitched.

“One and the same.” There was a glint in Ellis’ eyes. “He asked for you by name. My best, and I’m giving it to him.”

It. Like she was some kind of commodity.

Ellis cocked his head. “He’s willing to pay double your going rate, which equates to a small fucking fortune.”

“No damned way.” The words were out before she could stop them. “Senator Lawson is married.”

“Unhappily.”

“I don’t care,” she blurted. “You know my terms. I won’t date…” She forced the word out. They both knew that this wouldn’t just be a freaking date. Confidentiality. This wasn’t about being arm candy for an elderly gentleman. The senator was in his late forties, young compared to Charles and Harold. What he wanted would take place strictly behind closed doors. It turned her stomach and had bile rising in her throat.

“You are going to meet with the senator. I’m getting sick of repeating myself. Get in the car and quit mouthing off. If we don’t leave right fucking now we’re going to be late.”

His face had turned red again and his hands were fisted at his sides.

“He’s married,” she mumbled.

“You sound like a god damned stuck fucking record. Quit your whining and get in the car.”